


The Seduction

by SenLinYu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Cooking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friendship/Love, Kitchen Sex, Miscommunication, Oblivious, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenLinYu/pseuds/SenLinYu
Summary: “Hermione,” he said in a strained voice, ”please don’t take offense by how blunt I’m about to be, but I’m honestly afraid that if I explain this with any type of subtlety it will somehow continue to elude you.”Hermione’s expression grew indignant but Draco ignored it and pressed on.“I am trying to seduce you,” he said, staring her straight in the eye. Her indignation faded as her mouth dropped open and her eyes slowly grew round.He continued, “I have been trying to seduce you for over two years; ever since I first brought up the idea of our having a book club together.”





	The Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Neil Gaiman’s response to the question: What is the best way to seduce a writer?
> 
> “In my experience, writers tend to be really good at the inside of their own heads and imaginary people, and a lot less good at the stuff going on outside, which means that quite often if you flirt with us we will completely fail to notice, leaving everybody involved slightly uncomfortable and more than slightly unlaid.
> 
> So I would suggest that any attempted seduction of a writer would probably go a great deal easier for all parties if you sent them a cheerful note saying “YOU ARE INVITED TO A SEDUCTION: Please come to dinner on Friday Night. Wear the kind of clothes you would like to be seduced in.”
> 
> And alcohol may help, too. Or kissing. Many writers figure out that they’re being seduced or flirted with if someone is actually kissing them.”
> 
> Massive beta help from Jamethiel who patiently read and reread this monstrous one-shot and nudged me firmly in the right direction whenever I went astray.
> 
> This version of the story is E rated, there is a revised, M rated version on my FFN account under the same penname. 

Draco stared, mesmerized, as a barefoot Hermione Granger stepped toward him, closed her fingers lightly around his wrist, and drew his hand toward her face. Then she parted her lips—just enough to slip her pink tongue out—and slid the tip of it slowly and firmly over the end of his little finger.

If the visual weren’t enough, the sensation immediately succeeded in sending almost all of his blood in a southward direction.

Then her tongue vanished back inside her mouth and she stared up at the ceiling looking thoughtful for several seconds.

“I think it needs a dash of vanilla extract,” she finally said in a matter-of-fact tone, letting go of his hand and turning away from him.

As she turned away Draco felt his heart, which had momentarily been leaping, drop sharply and proceed to journey considerably further south than his blood had. He watched her walk over and scramble up onto the kitchen counter as she scrounged through one of his cabinets.

“Found it,” she sang out a moment later and waved a small vial over her head as she tried to climb down from the counter without falling.

Draco put the whisk he was holding back into the bowl of whipped cream on the counter and stepped over. He wrapped his hands around her waist as she slid down to the floor and left them there as she turned and stared up at him, her eyes dancing.

Their bodies were almost touching. If he dipped his head he could have kissed her; picked her up and put her back on the counter while he wrapped her legs around his waist and his tongue explored her mouth and his hands caressed her curves.

But as he stared down at her there was no ‘moment’ that suddenly passed between them. Her eyes didn’t darken as they looked up met his; her face showed no awareness of the intimacy between them. Instead she was waving a glass vial in his face.

“Your kitchen organization is atrocious,” she said. “Who on earth keeps their vanilla extract with their herbs and spices? I found it next to your chili flakes.”

She poked him in the ribs and slipped around him in order to scurry back to the bowl of whipped cream. With a flick of her wrist she added a dash of vanilla and then whipped it several more times before sticking her own finger into the soft, half developed peaks and then sliding it into her mouth and sucking on it.

“Better, I think.” She dipped another finger into the whipped cream and held it toward Draco.

He stepped forward and wrapped his hand around her wrist and raised her fingers up toward his lips, meeting her eyes as he proceeded to encase her entire finger inside his mouth and slowly suck the whipped cream off.

She gave a musical peal of laughter and pulled her hand away from him with a snort.

“What are you doing? Trying to seduce me, Draco Malfoy?” she said.

“That’s precisely what I’m doing.”

She laughed again and shook her head.

“You’re absurd,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she turned and walked to the stove where a cauldron of soup was simmering.

Draco stared at her wistfully and felt whatever remained of his heart tug painfully in his chest as he watched her.

Her hair was messily piled atop her head with dozens of escaped locks falling over her face and curling around her ears and wisping along her neck. She was dressed in a simple sheath dress, her robes laid aside. Around her waist was tied a suspiciously feminine apron, considering that she was currently cooking in the kitchen of an established bachelor. Her shoes had been kicked off the moment she’d come through the floo and left in a corner.

She removed the lid from the cauldron and flicked a generous sprinkling of salt across the surface. Then she stirred the contents a few times before turning back toward Draco cheerfully.

“There. Now we just let it simmer for another fifteen minutes and the potatoes should be perfect. What were we saying before you asked me to taste the whipped cream?”

She hopped up onto the edge of the counter and her feet dangled against the cabinet as she picked up her wine glass from where she’d left it and cradled the bowl in her hands as she started speaking animatedly.

“Oh right. Alchemy.” Her expression brightened further. “Are we really expected to believe that Nicholas Flamel was the only person to successfully create a Philosopher’s Stone in five hundred years? Even granting that most Wizarding folk dislike the alchemical branch of magical lore, it seems highly implausible that no one else has even managed to do it even after it was demonstrated to be possible to create one. I mean, we’re talking about eternal life. Everyone is obsessed with that. But somehow no one else has ever succeeded in making a philosopher’s stone? I don’t buy it. There clearly must be some kind of censorship by the ministry or even the ICW.”

Draco stared at her in silence for several seconds before he swallowed hard and forced himself to open his mouth.

“Do you want to keep doing this, Hermione?” he finally asked in a low voice.

Her eyebrows furrowed and then arched.

“Doing what?” she said.

Draco’s shoulders slumped and he give a tired sigh. “This,” he said, gesturing between them and then generally around his kitchen.

“The book club?” Hermione said looking baffled. “Dinner?”

Draco felt tempted to shake her.

“All of it,” he bit out, feeling annoyed the she was forcing him to spell it all out. “You are clearly and abundantly not interested, so is there a reason we’re still doing this after two years?”

Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed and bewildered. Her cheerfulness had vanished and her eyes were so large he could practically see himself in the reflection.

“You want to stop?” she said, her expression growing visibly hurt. “Why? How can you say I’m not interested? I’ve never missed a single book. I know I get here late sometimes—because of work, but that—that’s never intentional. I’ve always owled to let you know. I can stop bringing take-out on the nights I’m supposed to shop. I know I’ve done that a lot lately. But that wasn’t—I’m sorry. You should have said something. I didn’t realize it bothered you. I—“

Draco stared at her dazedly.

Hermione’s lower lip trembled faintly and her eyes got shiny and she abruptly coughed and then cleared her throat and stopped talking.

Draco felt his jaw fall somewhat slack.

“Oh god,” he said and buried his face in his hands for several seconds while he tried to absorb the realization he had just had.

When he looked up at Hermione, he found her staring at him with an expression of extreme hurt and a glimmer of anger in her eyes. He stared down at the floor and opened and closed his mouth repeatedly as he tried to figure out where to begin.

“Hermione,” he said at last, using a slow, even voice as he looked across the kitchen at her, “has it never struck you as odd that we are the only two participants in our book club?”

Hermione blinked at him.

“Well, the topics we like to read about are rather diverse and obscure. It would be surprising to find someone else who was interested in all the same things we are,” she said. “Were you wanting to expand it? We—can. I suppose the discussions probably aren’t as comprehensive since it’s just the two of us.”

Draco swallowed and tried again.

“We have dinner. Specifically, we have dinner here in my townhouse, which we normally cook together.”

“Well, if we ate separately before meeting up we’d have less time to talk about the book we read,” Hermione said slowly as though it were obvious.

“Right,” Draco said, clenching his hand into a fist in order to keep from burying his face in it again. “I think that’s what I said when I first suggested dinner.”

“You did,” Hermione said in a sharp tone. Her expression was still visibly hurt and defensive.

“We drink wine and eat and discuss the book and talk about anything else that comes to mind until late into the night and you regularly stay over and sleep in my guest bedroom,” Draco said.

Hermione nodded slowly.

“We regularly go on trips to vineyards or to visit museums or new bookstores together on the weekends,” he added.

The bewilderment in Hermione’s expression suddenly faded and became replaced by a look both pensive and regretful. Her mouth quivered faintly before she spoke.

“Oh... I understand. I’m encroaching aren’t I? Of course, I’m stealing all your spare time. You must have other people you’d rather spend your weekends with. It probably gives the wrong impression that you have me spending the night here. You should have said something sooner. Ron’s been saying I’m practically dating you. I understand. Do you—,” her expression grew wistful. “Would you be willing to just scale back? We could meet at a coffee shop like we did in the beginning. Just half an hour. Or did you just want to—want to stop?”

Draco clamped his hands over his mouth as he stared at Hermione Granger, the brightest witch her age, and tried to formulate a reply.

Finally he dropped his hands and gripped the edge of counter instead.

“Hermione,” he said in a strained voice, ”please don’t take offense by how blunt I’m about to be, but I’m honestly afraid that if I explain this with any type of subtlety it will somehow continue to elude you.”

Hermione’s expression grew indignant but Draco ignored it and pressed on.

“I am trying to seduce you,” he said, staring her straight in the eye. Her indignation faded as her mouth dropped open and her eyes slowly grew round.

He continued, “I have been trying to seduce you for over two years; ever since I first brought up the idea of our having a book club together.”

He gestured around the room.  

“I moved out of my manor and bought a townhouse just so I could invite you over and cook for you in place you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable in; because I was trying to seduce you. I’ve plied you with wine and chocolate and you have your own toothbrush and drawer of clothes in my house because I’ve been trying to seduce you. I have taken you to vineyards and museums and the bookstores and libraries because I have been trying to seduce you.”

He ran a hand through his hair and slumped against the counter slightly.

“I thought that you just needed time. I thought if I was patient that eventually you’d get to know me and realize that I wasn’t the person I was in school; that if I waited you’d eventually come to trust me enough to know I’d never do anything to hurt you. I—thought that _that_ was what the last two years had been about. And that was fine. I’ll wait a decade or a century if that’s what it takes. But—it didn’t even occur to me that you hadn’t realized that I have been trying to seduce you this entire time.”

He needed a stiff drink. Several. An entire bar would probably be ideal. More than a bar. Perhaps he’d buy a whisky distillery.

Granger’s eyes were so enormous as she stared at him that she looked like a muggle cartoon animal.

“You—you—what?” she finally choked out.

“I have been trying to seduce you,” Draco said again in a flat, resigned voice and wondered if he should write it on a board or perhaps print it into a book for her. He’d already said it a half dozen times and if she continued to not understand he would probably feel obliged to jump off a bridge somewhere.

“How was I supposed to know that?” she said in a shrill tone.

He stared at her, stunned.

“What did you think was going on?” he said in bafflement.

“I don’t know,” she said in wobbling voice, setting her wine glass down and fluttering her hands around in a way that she tended to when she was at a loss for words. “Normally—boys just tell me I’m pretty and then try to kiss me, or they ask me to accompany them to balls and ministry events. They don’t start book clubs and buy townhouses and invite me to cook dinner with them and set up spare bedrooms.” She gestured up toward the ceiling but then her hands abruptly shot down and she gripped the edge of the counter, looking as though she were on the verge of toppling off of it. “Did you expect me to assume I was special? For all I know you do the same things with all your friends.”

Were his hands shaking? Yes. It appeared that they were shaking from frustration.

“Yes, Hermione, on Thursday nights I have Blaise over for my other book club and we cook dinner and waltz together in my kitchen and then drink wine and I hand feed him chocolates too,” Draco said in a voice that dripped sarcasm. “And then, when I’m not spending my weekends with you, I instead take Pansy to vineyards and we go horseback riding together at sunset.”

Hermione turned bright red.

“I’m not—I’m not good at noticing things like that,” she finally said in a very small voice. “Flirting. I always miss the cues when it comes to flirting.”

“Yes. I’ve realized that now,” Draco said, thinking back upon how pointedly he had always refrained from ever actually stating any level of interest because he’d feared it would be too much and might pressure her. He’d assumed that she would be assuming his interest; that it had been established; an implicit understanding between them. That at some point, if he were patient enough, she’d be willing to initiate some type of physical reciprocity and then he could go from there, confident that she was comfortable with it.

But she hadn’t even realized...

“So, just to be clear. Since tonight is all about finally being clear. I’m assuming that since it never so much as crossed your mind that I was trying to seduce you, that means that you are not interested,” he said in a wooden voice and as he started a mental checklist: One, get drunk. Two, stay drunk. Three, sell the townhouse. Four, move to Africa. Five, stay in Africa.

“I’m—interested.”

He blinked and stared at her in astonishment.

“What?”

“I’m still wrapping my mind around all this,” she said, blushing and fidgeting with her apron hem, “but I’m—interested. If you—if you’re still interested. I’d like to try again, now that I know what’s going on. Maybe not tonight. I think I’m going into shock currently. But maybe next week, we could—try and see. Now that I know.”

Draco stared at her dazedly and she gave him a small, nervous smile.

“Next week?” he repeated.

“Is that—does that work for you? To—to seduce me then?”

He nodded slowly. “I can make room for it. Definitely. Same time? I’ll cook.”

“Alright,” Hermione said bobbing her head. Her cheeks were still stained scarlet. “I’ll—I’ll look forward to it.” Her eyes widened with embarrassment. “I mean—I mean, I’ll see you then. I should—I think I need to—to go.”

She jumped off the counter and bolted from the kitchen and he heard the roar of the floo a minute later.

He stood in his kitchen for several more minutes as he tried to absorb the fact that he had spent the last two years of his life trying to seduce Hermione Granger and somehow she hadn’t noticed it.

* * *

Two days later Hermione received a large envelope in the post. The heavy card stock was champagne colored with silver calligraphy scripted across it, smooth under her fingers as she slit it open with a letter opener. As soon as the envelope was opened there was an explosion of fairy dust that filled the air around her with sparkling, glimmering light. A small golden orb floated up from the envelope and began forming large, glowing letters that hung in mid air.

_YOU ARE INVITED TO A SEDUCTION_

_Please come to dinner on Friday night. Wear the kind of clothes you would like to be seduced in._

* * *

 Hermione did not floo into Draco’s townhouse from the ministry as was her usual custom the following Friday night. Instead, at 5:30 sharp, there was a tentative knock on his front door.

He swung the door open and there she was.

She appeared to have gone home and changed from her work clothes.

Her hair was much more orderly looking than usual, like she’d put a potion into it to try to contain the curls. Her eyes were darker with mascara and she had applied lipstick and blush in matching shades of rose pink. She had removed the pearl stud earrings she always wore and had replaced them with small, dangling silver earrings that trembled faintly as she stared up at him. She was enveloped in a long black cloak.

He opened the door wider to invite her in.

She scurried into the foyer and then turned and stared awkwardly at him. He held out his hand to take her cloak.

She flushed faintly as she reached up to unclasp it and pulled it off quickly.

She was dressed in something that looked almost liquid as it hung about her curves. It was most definitely muggle. It was sleeveless with very narrow straps and he got the distinct impression that it was the sort of clothing that if he were to slip the straps off her shoulders that the entire thing might slide off of her and pool at her feet.

“Well,” she said in a slightly shrill voice, “here I am.”

He stood and stared, looking at her up and down and wondering if he were hallucinating or if Hermione Granger really had arrived at his house wearing nothing but a very, very easily removed piece of clothing after he had sent her an explicit invitation to come over and be seduced by him.

He’d rather expected her to arrive even more buttoned up that usual, with her hair pulled severely back and sensible tights and one of those annoying sheath dresses with very small and barely helpful side-zipper that was utterly impossible to get off dexterously.

The sensuous vision currently fidgeting nervously in his foyer was like the fantasy of a two year younger and far more optimistic version of himself.

He swallowed hard.

They didn’t need to eat dinner, did they? They could just skip the cooking and the eating and the conversations and go straight to letting him find out how her dress was staying on.

Two interminable years of foreplay was surely enough.

Except that it had apparently been entirely one-sided.

He sighed internally and forced himself to speak.

“I’m making paninis,” he said, “and a salad with candied walnuts. Would you mind making the dressing? Your champagne vinaigrette always turns out better than mine and I cannot account for it.”

“Of course,” Hermione said in a stiff, formal voice. “What kind of paninis are you making?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Draco admitted. “I thought I’d show you the options and let you decide. I also have panna cotta setting in the fridge, but I haven’t made the berry coulis for it.”

He led her to the kitchen.

There were candles scattered around and floating in mid-air overhead and soft violin music began playing when he swung the door open. The lights were slightly dimmer than was truly ideal of cooking.

Hermione stopped and stared.

“I thought it would be advisable to set the mood early so that you didn’t at any point forget that I’m seducing you tonight,” he said in a low voice, glancing over at her through his lashes.

Her cheeks flushed and he was sorely tempted to just skip the mental seduction and back her into the doorframe until his body was pressed against her lush curves and try to kiss her into a daze.

She slipped into the kitchen ahead of him and he stood wavering as he stared after her. Her dress was backless all the way down to the small of it with a very small ribbon that tied in a bow across her shoulder blades. He could see the indentation of her spine and he wanted to run his tongue up it and then push aside her hair and kiss her neck as he untied the ribbon and slid the straps of her dress over her shoulders.

Draco felt his cock stir and fought against the urge to go smack himself upside the head with a cast-iron frying pan. The plan was seducing her, not unceremoniously ravishingly her on the kitchen table. Which would be—delightful.

“Right…” he said in a tight voice joining her beside the array of ingredients he had laid out earlier. “So the panini options are; brie, braised Bartlett pear, and prosciutto with a balsamic reduction and arugula or alternatively, sliced tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, Niçoise olives, and roasted bell peppers.”

He summoned a bottle of wine from across the room and poured them both a full glass.

Hermione clutched the goblet he offered her as though it were a Draught of Peace and gulped a large mouthful.

“I thought,” he said in what he hoped sounded like a low conversational tone,” we could taste test the options and see what you’d prefer.”

Hermione reached for the silverware drawer and Draco quickly reached over and caught her hand.

“Hermione, this is a seduction,” he reminded her.

“N-now?” she stammered, staring up at him. “I thought that part was happening later.”

“No. The seduction is the entire evening,” he explained patiently.

“Oh…” Hermione said in a strained voice. “So, cooking dinner together is—that was—you were trying to—“

“Yes,” Draco said, feeling grateful that he’d had an entire week to come to terms with the fact that she’d been oblivious the entire time. “Cooking for you has always been for the purpose of trying to seduce you.”

“I see,” she said in the same tone of voice she used when she’d just solved an advanced arithmancy problem.

“Yes,” he said, and his voice was only faintly aggrieved. “Now, would you like me to feed you a pear or an olive first?”

“Oh. Um. A pear?”

He reached over and nabbed one and held it to her lips. She blushed scarlet and looked away as she took a small nibble at the edge.

“No, Hermione. That’s not the right way at all. Open your mouth.”

She parted her lips obediently as though he were about to insert a thermometer. He placed the slice of pear on her tongue, meeting her eyes and then drew his hand back and slipped his fingers into his own mouth and slowly sucked on them.

Her eyes darkened incrementally as she stared up at him.

But then she looked away.

“That’s quite good,” she said in a wobbling voice. “Let’s just go with the pear version.”

He sighed internally.

It was clear that kitchen seduction was quite possibly just a lost cause with her. Fortunately he had anticipated there likely being several failed approaches and had planned the evening accordingly. Perhaps once there was more wine she’d be more receptive.

“Would you start the raspberry coulis while I assemble the paninis?” he asked, summoning an apron for her from a drawer.

“You stole your regular apron last week,” he reminded her with a smirk. “And remind me to return your shoes and robes.”

Her ears turned visibly pink as she pulled the apron over her head and hurried across the room toward the fridge.

“So…” he said sometime later, when her blush had faded and she was sedately simmering berries on the stovetop and mixing a vinaigrette. “I did some poking about this last week in my family’s library. I think you're right about the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Really?” she said, brightening.

“Yes,” he said as he approached her and noticed that she immediately tensed. “There were several books I thought might be promising. Several are written in old English, so they’ll need some translating. Another is a French journal, written by one of my Malfoi ancestors before he immigrated to England. Although,” he added with a smirk, “the sections of alchemy are a bit interspersed with a great many descriptions of his daily ‘horizontal refreshments.’”

Hermione turned pink again and she drained half her glass of wine in one go. Draco refilled it without a word and studied her carefully. Her cheeks were developing a much redder flush to them than her rose blush provided.

“I’ll lend them to you, if you want,” he said. “Unless you end up wanting to read them together.”

Hermione gave him a long pensive look and then turned away from him and seemed to be reaching for her wine again. Draco sighed and slipped the goblet out of her reach.

“Hermione... I’m not going to stop being your friend if this evening goes badly,” he said. Then he froze and a cold realization began to dawn him as he watched her continue to look away and nervously fidget beside him, gnawing her lip.

His grip on the goblet tightened for a moment as he tried to keep his tone light, “Granted I may need some space to regrow my ego and try to move on. But—this isn’t some kind of ultimatum. If that’s why you’re here—“ he clenched his jaw for a moment, “we should just stop now. We can resume the book club next week and I’ll pretend this never happened.”

“But you said last week that ‘this,’” she gestured between them, “was the whole reason we’d been having a book club for the last two years.”

He took in a sharp breath and swallowed bitterly. “Yes, well, that was when I thought you were aware that I’ve been trying to seduce you this whole time. I didn't realize I was blindsiding you. I didn’t mean to corner you into thinking you had to. You should—,” he tried not so stare at her as dull throbbing sensation steadily swallowed his chest, “probably go.”

He started to turn away, suddenly needing hard liquor. He was currently in dire need of drinking himself insensate.

“But I’m interested,”Hermione said sharply in the swotty, obstinate voice that she generally used when lecturing people about House-elves. He stilled and turned back to find her putting her hands on her hips and glaring up at him. “You said you’d seduce me tonight. You even sent me an invitation in the post. I went clothes shopping and I’m positive you know how much I hate clothes shopping. It took me all day to find this dress.” She tugged at the fabric beneath her apron. “ Now you’re trying to cancel just because I’m a bit nervous. Well, I’m sorry but no one has ever invited me over to be seduced before. There aren’t any books about what I’m supposed to do.”

She huffed and turned away for a moment to stir the coulis vigorously before glaring over her shoulder at him.

“I mean, I was interested ages ago, but you just—never made a move,” she said, tossing a hand up in apparent despair. “You’d invite me over to make handmade pasta and feed me imported chocolates and turn on music and have us salsa dancing around the kitchen but you never tried anything or said anything about liking me or wanting to date me. When we went to museums or bookstores or even the vineyards you never _asked_ to take me to any of them, you’d just mention that you were going and say I could come if I wanted to. So, I just assumed that it was how you were; that you had, had—,” she stammered slightly and glanced away. “That you had a line that you didn’t want us to cross, and I tried not to do anything that would make it seem like I was trying to cross it.”

Draco stood blinking at Hermione, trying to absorb everything she’d just said.

“Define ages ago,” he finally said.

She stared intently down into the coulis as though it were a scrying mirror. “I thought back when you first asked me to have dinner here that it meant something. But—then you didn’t ever so much as kiss me on the cheek and you always went to events with other people. You never seemed particularly enthusiastic about having me over when your other friends were. So I just assumed that I wasn’t supposed to read into anything—that you were just joking around; that flirting is your way of being friendly, and that you were the same way with everyone. I was afraid that if I was misinterpreting and then you realized that I was—that I was interested, that it might make things awkward.”  

“Oh god,” Draco moaned and then proceeded to down Hermione’s entire glass of wine. He set the goblet down on the counter and leaned over and buried his face in his arms for several minutes.

“Please kill me,” he muttered. “Just bludgeon me to death with something; the frying pan, the panini press, the meat mallet...anything. I don’t think I can live with this anymore.”

He felt fingertips rest lightly on his shoulder, “Draco… what—was there something you were waiting for me to do?”

“Well, yes,” he said in a muffled voice, his face still in his arms. He raised his head and looked over at her and then forced himself to stand up and straighten his clothes and pretend that he was still somewhat suave and dignified. “I thought that, seeing as you are a Gryffindor, eventually if you were interested you’d—make the some kind of move or say something. I thought my interest was established. So… I just tried to give you openings to take the next step, if you wanted. But,” he sighed heavily, “You would always just laugh or look away or poke me in the side and start talking about something else, so I concluded you weren’t—weren’t there yet…”

His voice trailed off.

“I didn’t want to rush you by trying to make you spell out define what we were doing, so that’s why I tried not to ever frame our trips as dates. That’s why I never asked you to go to any public events and why I tried not to have you around my friends that much. They all regarded you as being my girlfriend, I was afraid they’d try to help me out by saying something and pressure you about our relationship.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, “so all those times when you would help me off the horses or put your hand out to balance me on the ladders in the library, or after you helped me off the counter last week, you were trying to give me opportunities to do—something.”

Draco gave a short nod.

“Hmm,” Hermione said and turned back to the coulis, looking thoughtful as she turned off the heat and cast a pureeing charm on it. Then she dipped a spoon in and tried it.

“The raspberries were rather tart. It might need more sugar before its strained. Do you want to taste it?” she asked.

Draco had been somewhat distracted with his general state of shock and feelings of idiocy. “What?”

“Do you want to taste the coulis? It’s a bit tart,” Hermione reiterated.

“Oh, sure,” he said absently and reached for the spoon. Hermione pulled it away from him.

““No, Draco,” she said, looking at him from under her lashes mischievously, “that’s not the right way at all. Open your mouth.”

He stared at her for a moment before opening his mouth. She slipped the spoon toward his mouth but, rather than insert it neatly, she grazed his lower lip slightly. He could feel the raspberry sauce catch on his mouth and darted his tongue out to catch it.

“You missed a bit,” she told him with a smirk.

He brought up his thumb but before he could wipe his lips she reached out and caught his wrist.

“Draco… this is part of the seduction,” she said in a low purr.

He stilled and looked at her. He was pretty sure he wasn’t misunderstanding her, but his confidence in  his ability to understand anything was pretty irreparably shattered at that particular moment.

“It is?” he said.

“I’m afraid so,” she said and stepped closer to him. “I had thought since I was the one invited over to be seduced that you would kiss me. However, since you’re looking a bit addled, I’m afraid I’m going to have to be the one to do this…”

She raised herself onto her toes and pressed her lips against his. He felt her tongue dart out and slide across his lower lip. It was like an electric shock straight through his body.

Then she stepped back and raised an eyebrow.

“The coulis definitely needs more sugar,” she said and started to turn to head toward the baking cabinet.

Draco reached out, grabbed her wrist and dragged her into his arms. Her expression was distinctly smug and unsurprised as he crushed her against himself and glared down at her.

“You,” he growled as he studied her eyes, which were darkened, and her cheeks, which were flushed. “You are going to be the death of me.”

Then he dipped his head down and captured her lips with his. Hermione made a pleased kittenish sort of noise in the back of her throat and gripped his shirt as she kissed him back.

She tasted like raspberries and wine and something uniquely Hermione. He nipped her lips and then delved his tongue inside her mouth; sliding along and entwining it with hers as his hands roamed across her body and he pulled her up into his arms and set her down on the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He had been dreaming of this moment for ages. Imagined iterations of it again and again until he’d worried he was setting himself up to be disappointed if the moment ever did come.

He had been mistaken. His fairly vivid imagination could not top the thrill of finally getting to kiss Hermione Granger after waiting to do so for years.

His hand skimmed over the bare skin of her back, gliding his fingers along her spine. He felt her gasp against his lips. He pulled her against himself more tightly and brought up a hand to tangle in her uncharacteristically neat hair. He slid his fingers among the curls and gripped it as he drew his lips away from hers.

“Oh god, I have been dying to kiss you,” he muttered before pressing his mouth against hers again.

His heart was pounding as though he’d just dived and caught a snitch. The entire universe seemed faded away until there was nothing left but Hermione in his arms, her satin tongue gliding against his lips, her curves under his hands, and the sensation of her fingers slipping along his neck like a whisper.

Kissing her was—Magic; a rush through his whole body. She gave breathy little whimpers and tugged at his hair, and it sent a shiver through his body and down to his cock. He pressed himself against her more firmly and moaned.

He slid his hand out of her hair and cradled her cheek in his hand, sliding his thumb across the arch of her cheekbone as he tilted her head back and pulled away from her mouth in order to drop kisses along her jaw up to her ear.

She keened and tangled her fingers more firmly in his hair.

His fingers found the bow over her shoulders and he fought against the urge to tug it loose and let her dress slide off.

But, while having sex with her in his kitchen was definitely on the extensive to-do list he had in regard to her, it was not where he wanted their first time to be.

He reluctantly pulled his hand away and stepped back after giving her one final, searing kiss.

Then he studied her. She was glassy-eyed and her chest was heaving as she stared up at him. Her curls were a riot. Her lipstick was gone and her lips were red and bee-stung. Her eyes were dark. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Well,” she said breathlessly. “I guess I am at a seduction.”

Draco snorted and twined his fingers with hers. “Notice that, did you?”

She shrugged. “That’s the impression I’m getting, but… then again, I may be mistaken.”

Draco wasn’t intending to but he growled and—

He was kissing her again.

Was there a reason he’d stopped? He couldn’t recall. It seemed dreadfully unimportant and probably mistaken; whatever that reason had been. Because there was nothing on earth that could be more important than finally getting to kiss her. To finally show her everything he had been waiting to show her. To finally pour out the depth of feeling he had been reining in for so long.

God, her lips. They felt like silk against his. And her curls. The number of highly indecent dreams he’d had involving her curls...

He slipped his tongue into her mouth again. She whimpered and used her legs, still around his waist, to pull him more firmly against herself. He wrapped his arms around her and ravished her mouth until he felt light-headed. She was beginning to claw at his shoulders and the bite of pain only added fuel to the maelstrom beginning to roar through his veins. He drew his mouth away and peppered open mouthed kisses along her neck before nipping her shoulder.

“You perfect, perfect creature,” he breathed, and slid the tip his tongue along her throat, and groaned at the taste of her skin before nibbling on her ear.

She gave a ragged gasp and clung to him.

“Draco—Draco—,” she panted, “I am most thoroughly seduced. Please, please shag me now.”

Oh right, that was why he had stopped kissing her. He drew back slightly with a groan at the loss of contact and looked at her.

“I haven’t fed you yet,” he said. It was the only coherent thing he force out as he struggled to think of something other than the taste of her skin under his tongue, the softness of her lips, the feeling of her body crushed against his, and his absolutely throbbing erection.

“I don’t care…” she said and began unbuttoning his shirt in order to emphasize the point.

Minx. He didn’t mean to but somehow he found himself untying her apron and pulling it over her head.

“I have chocolates,” he added dazedly, as he noticed her nipples jutting through the fabric of her dress in hard peaks.

“I don’t care,” she said again. “Feed them to me afterward. Or tomorrow.”

Clever witch. She had such an exceptional mind. It was why he fell for her in the first place. What man wouldn’t want to chance to engage with a woman so stunningly intelligent and stunningly stunning?

Later. Tomorrow. Excellent, excellent, positively ingenious options.

That worked, didn’t it? Was there anything he was forgetting? He didn’t think—

Oh fucking hell. He gasped and his vision wavered for a moment. Hermione had finished unbuttoning his shirt and proceeded to dip her head down and drag her tongue up his torso all the way to his collarbones.

He caught her face in his hands and kissed her ruthlessly until her body was arched taut against him, and her arms were wrapped around his neck as though she feared she’d be torn from him. Then he pulled his lips away momentarily.

“I am seducing you,” he reminded her firmly. “Seducer.” he gestured toward himself. “Seducee.” He held her by the chin and brushed their lips lightly together. She shivered.

“But—it’s more efficient if we’re both doing it,” she said in a cajoling voice that had an ability to turn him into liquid inside. “Besides, using titles as a means of controlling behavior stunts creativity.” She leaned forward and began nibbling on his collarbones while her right hand slid down his torso toward his trousers. He caught her hand firmly.

“You are a cheeky, little know-it-all,” he said huskily. “But if you wanted to make the rules of a seduction you should have invited me over to your flat. My house, my rules. This is _my_ seduction. I’ve been planning it all week. Despite your exceptional talent for sidetracking me, there is a written agenda and it doesn’t include any references to having sex on a kitchen counter.”

“You could apparate us to your room,” she purred, and shifted her hips in a rolling motion against his groin. He groaned and dropped his head against her shoulder. “Or were you planning for us to end up on the dining room table or in front of the fireplace?”

Yes, eventually, definitely, he was thinking of both those places.

“Bedroom,” he muttered. “The plan for tonight was the bedroom.”

He tried to think clearly but she kept nibbling on his neck and her hands were doing sinful things to his torso. He jerked and felt his cock throb painfully as she slid a fingernail over his nipple and flicked it. He groaned and nipped at her neck while his hands slid inside her dress and he cupped her breasts. Soft. Perfect. The weight in his palms… He found her pebbled nipples and caressed them lightly with his fingertips. Hermione made a deep, strangled noise in the back of her throat and the sound went straight to his cock. He hissed and ground himself against her pelvis.

“Bedroom then,” she gasped. “Now.”

He nearly apparated them right then and there but stopped himself.

“I’m pretty sure that’s it’s frowned upon to invite a witch to dinner and then shag her before the meal,” he pointed out, even as he withdrew a hand from her breast in order to slide it up her skirt. He slid his fingers along her inner thigh until he found her knickers and then pressed his thumb against the fabric. She was sopping wet and her whole body had begun trembling; her fingers momentarily stilled from their thorough exploration of his abdominal muscles.

He captured her lips in a tender kiss as he dragged a knuckle lightly against her clit and Hermione shook and whimpered against his mouth. He flicked his tongue out along her lower lip and caressed it as he kneaded her breast and began drawing slow circles over her knickers with his thumb.

She was clutching as his shirt as though she were about to fall and shifted her hips further forward as she parted legs on the edge of the counter. He steadied her carefully.

It occurred to Draco as he continued to drag his thumb over her knickers that oral sex wasn’t technically sex. He slid his index finger along her covered core and she choked and jerked against him.

He could, he thought to himself, get on his knees, tug her knickers off, and taste her. Run his tongue along her folds, suck and tease her clit and then delve into her cunt and he wouldn’t _technically_ be disregarding any of his written agenda.

An orgasm in the kitchen before dinner could classify as an hors d’oeuvre or aperitif, or something. Tasting her—that would definitely succeed in stimulating his appetite…

Although not for paninis.

He rolled the tip of her puckered nipple between his fingers while he slipped his tongue into her mouth and along her teeth. She was shivering. His hand against her knickers kept lightly, lightly stroking and teasing her cunt. He could smell her arousal as she parted her legs wider and shifted her hips, seeking a specific point of friction and pressure that he wasn’t yet providing.

“You—you’ve cooked dinner for me a least—a hundred times by now,” Hermione said in a breathy groan against his mouth as she made a very weak attempt at drawing away from him. “Besides—oh fuuuck—!” Her voice abruptly cut off when he pressed the heel of his hand firmly against her. She bucked against it and knocked her head slightly against the cabinet behind her.

She grabbed hold of the hand between her legs and stilled it. There was a heavy, rose flush across her cheeks, and her lips were parted as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were black and nearly glazed with arousal, but she was still managing to glare at him.

“I—,” she panted, “I am pretty sure that it is frowned upon to invite a witch over to be seduced and then argue with her when she is asking you very nicely to take her up to your bedroom.”

As she was speaking she slipped a hand into his trousers, and wrapped her fingers firmly around his cock. Draco’s whole body shook as she squeezed; he thrust involuntarily and felt his balls draw up as he fought off an immediate desire to explode in her hand. His fingers on her breast squeezed reactively.

Fucking hell.

He jerked her hand away before she could do anything else and stood panting and trying to regain his bearings. He was absolutely burning for her. Every muscle in his body felt drawn taut.

He’d meant—he’d meant for them to talk. For him to have more time to try to communicate everything he’d thought had been understood between them. He wasn’t sure if she knew how seriously he regarded the evening.

Unfortunately he was finding it quite difficult to form any complete thoughts that weren’t primarily about apparating immediately upstairs.

He was afraid he might annoy her if he tried to stop things again. They could talk later, he hoped. Assuming things went well.

“Fair point,” he finally managed to say and wrapped an arm around her waist as he buried his head against her shoulder. “But let the record show that dinner was delayed at your request and I _only_ gave in to this breach of protocol because I take my duties as host so seriously.”

Then he dragged her into his arms and apparated them upstairs. They reappeared in the middle of his bed and proceeded to topple over into the pillows.

Oh god, the sight of her on his bed.

He stared down at her trying to commit it to memory; trying to notice every detail. Her curls were spread across his pillow, her eyes dark and sultry in the low light as she looked up at him. Her dress was askew and he could make out her nipples and the dip of her waist and even the outline of her navel as the fabric pooled over her.

Just looking at her was enough to set him on fire. Except he was already on fire and had been since the moment she’d arrived at his front door. He could feel his cock throbbing and fought against the desire to just rip her knickers off and drive into her.

She was already wet. He knew she was wet.

His hands were shaking and he could feel sweat breaking out along his neck and between his shoulders. He had to pace himself. Pace himself and show her what he hadn’t told her yet; that he adored her; that he was already head over heels in love for her.

“You—are so lovely,” he said, his voice rasped slightly as he slid a hand along her neck and up to her cheek.

She arched up and pressed her lips against his and he sank down on top of her with a groan; feeling her curves moulding against his body.

Just kissing her would never get old. The taste of her. The sensation of her tongue sliding against his. The criminally unhelpful sounds she made against his mouth.

He pulled away from her lips and pressed kisses down her throat and slid a hand behind her back to find the tie on her dress. It only took the slightest tug and he felt the bow come undone. Then he drew the straps slowly off her shoulders and felt almost afraid to breathe.

There was a possibility that he was hallucinating the entire thing. After two years of fantasizing it was distinctly possible that he’d finally cracked and the entire thing was just a vivid dream. If he abruptly woke up alone in bed he would probably end up burning down his townhouse and fleeing the continent.

“Are you real?” he found himself asking.

Hermione blinked and smiled faintly.

“I think so,” she said in a lilting tone. “I have been given to understand that I am. Of course, there is a hypothesis shared by some in the field of theoretical physics that the universe is just a hologram. But, if that ends up being the case, you’re a hologram too.”

He snorted.

Then he drew her dress away further, finally revealing her breasts. His hand stilled as he just stared, until she twitched, and shifted and looked self-conscious for the first time.

He dipped his head down and pressed a kiss on the top of her left breast, over her heart. Then he kissed and licked lightly between them, while his left hand began lightly kneading her right breast. Stroking his fingertips lightly over the top and then along the sensitive underside until she was whimpering. He spent several minutes kissing around the circumference, and then laving and stroking them until she was gasping.

He wanted to memorize everything about them. Every spot where she quivered and moaned.

He dropped feather light kisses in a trail from one to the other while he kept lightly fondling them. Then he finally caught her right nipple gently between his teeth, and curled his tongue against it.

“Oh goooood,” Hermione wailed and her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it hard enough to hurt as she held his mouth against her breast. She shifted her hips and ground against his thigh. He pressed himself against her hip with a moan of his own as he continued to swirl his tongue against her sensitive flesh.

He sucked and teased, and dropped dozens of kisses on her aching nipple while his right hand continued to fondle and tease her left breast; wrapping his fingertips to span around it and then slowly drawing them up toward her nipple and nearly brushing against it, before pulling his hand away to repeat the motion. Finally he pulled his mouth away from her right nipple with a faint pop and leaned over to take her left nipple into his mouth, grazing it faintly with his teeth before wrapping his tongue around it and sucking. She was nearly sobbing.

He slowly drew away in order to pull her dress off, and then paused to drink her in. She was wearing nothing but white lace knickers. He leaned down again and began journeying with his mouth down the length of body. He slipped his tongue teasingly into her navel and felt her shiver, looking up to find her staring intensely at him. He smirked and held her gaze as he slid further down her body and paused at her hip bones. He sucked hard just above the bone and watched the spot darken. Then he brushed the tender flesh lightly with his fingers, and kissed it.

He dragged a lazy finger along the edge of her knickers and felt her breath catch. He ducked his head to hide his smile as he slid past, and started pressing kisses along her thighs.

“Bastard…” she hissed and he heard her head drop back onto the pillow. He chuckled against her skin.

“I’ve been waiting for this night for two years, if I can still be patient then so can you,” he said before curling his tongue along the inside of her knee. He made a mental note when it got a muted response.

He ran the tip of his tongue along her inner calf and felt her shake, then pressed a kiss in the dip beneath the bone of her ankle. She gave a muffled moan.

Interesting.

“Do you have a foot kink, Granger?” he drawled. She turned bright red.

“No,” she said quickly.

He quirked an eyebrow as he caressed her ankle and then drew his fingers lightly over the top and pressed several kisses along the instep. Hermione gave a strangled gasp and quite nearly arched off the bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Maybe,” she said, hiding her face in her hands and then peeking over her fingers at him. “I don’t know. I—when I asked—someone else—to touch them once, he—he started calling me mistress. I hated that.”

Draco chuckled. “Duly noted,” he said as he flicked his tongue between her toes. She whimpered and twisted her fingers among the sheets, but then drew her foot away.

“I don’t—I don’t think I want to explore kinks tonight,” she muttered, still scarlet-faced. “It’s a bit too much.”

“Fair enough,” he said immediate agreement; his heart skipping a beat as he registered her implication that there might be future nights.

He lifted her other foot up and rested it on his shoulder as he started kissing his way back up. When he reached her opposite hip he leaned forward and captured her lips and kissed her for several minutes, crushing their bodies together. The sensation of her bare breasts pressed against his chest radiated heat through him.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and then slid over his shoulders, pushing his shirt off.

“You’re overdressed,” she murmured against his mouth, before tearing herself away from him and sitting up to pull it off. She raised herself up on her knees and began kissing and nibbling along his shoulder. He shivered and the sensation of her lips brushing along his body made him tingle right up into his scalp. He let his head fall back with a groan and felt her fingers sliding along his arms.  Her hand grazed the location of his faded mark. His blood abruptly ran cold and he jerked his arm away. Hermione stilled and looked up at him with a soft gaze.

“It’s the past,” she said. “It’s in the past.”

He clenched his jaw and felt frozen; dragged from the moment he’d gotten so lost it. “It—I still feel like it defines me. Especially when it comes to you. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

Everything felt abruptly futile. He was delusional. He was Icarus flying up toward the sun and somehow he’d expected to get away with it.

But now he was remembering himself. Everything was cold. As cold as his manor, where he had stood and watched the woman he was now trying to woo when she was tortured. Cold. It was always going to be cold; right up until he just died from it.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed and tried to gather himself.

Then there was heat, against his hand and brushing against his face and Hermione was still there. Brushing her lips against his cheek as she laced her fingers with his.

“You apologized to me on your knees,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have ever come to your house that first night for dinner if I hadn’t meant it when I said I forgave you.”

She pressed her lips against him chastely. “I forgave you, Draco Malfoy. Leave it in the past now.”

He returned her kiss slowly and she deepened it. Urging his arms to wrap back around her until she was crushed in his embrace and heat began radiating between them again.

Soft. Delicate. Powerful. Brilliant. In his bed. His bed.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want a person to such a consuming degree. He wanted her; every bit of her. Just burned for her.  He couldn’t stop himself from hoping until his heart ached that he could somehow convince her to stay with him.

She nipped at his lip, and then coaxed his tongue into her mouth as she arched the length of her body against his bare chest.

She was like spring. Warm and sweet and lush. Vibrating with life and potential. Radiating warmth that thawed everything around her as surely as if she were the sun. Just touching her was an such a rush of vibrancy he felt he could be swallowed by it.

Her parents should have named her Persephone.

Her hands slid down and began unbuttoning his trousers, and shoving his remaining clothing off of him. When he was stripped, he looked up to find her studying him with an expression of greedy appreciation. It did marvelous things for his mood and ego. He felt himself twitch.

She reached a hand out and caressed his cock. He groaned and stared as she wrapped her fingers around it and slid them slowly along the length several times. Then she ducked her head down with clear intent, and he caught her and dragged her away.  

“Absolutely not,” he told her firmly. “I have plans for this night that involve coming in here.” He slid a lazy hand over her lower abdomen and grazed her pelvis so that she jerked. “I’m not taking the risk having you bring things to a premature end.”

She rolled her eyes but there was a faint smile playing on her lips. He swallowed it with a searing kiss. Draco kissed her cheeks and tangled a hand in her hair as he ran a hand down her back to and along the curve of her arse, while she whimpered and panted near his ear. Clinging to his shoulders.

He pressed her back down onto the bed and kissed and nipped his way down her arms to her fingers. Then he sucked each one into his mouth, his hands fondling her breasts. Her eyes slid closed as she whimpered and began to writhe beneath him.

When she was incoherent with sensation he finally slipped a hand down and drew her knickers off. He heard her breath catch as he slid his hand over her pelvis and caressed the thatch of curls between her legs.

He glanced up and found that her eyes were scrunched closed and her fingers gripping the sheets tightly as she lay frozen. Her expression almost tense as though she were bracing herself against something.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured and dropped a kiss over the mark he’d left on her hip. “I’ve been dreaming of this for ages and yet you are somehow managing to exceed all my fantasies.”

She snorted and started to open her mouth in what was undoubtedly a retort, but he cut her off by lowering his mouth between her legs. He watched her face as he slid out his tongue and gave a long, slow, stroke against her swollen flesh. Her expression twisted and she arched up off the bed with a ragged wail. He pressed a hand against her abdomen to hold her in place as his tongue flicked out again and curled around her clit. He kissed it softly and then delved his tongue in deeper; sliding into her core and feeling her muscles flutter and clench in response. Her fluids slipped out and coated his chin until he was nearly dripping from it. The heady smell of her arousal made his cock ache so insistently he shifted and pressed it against the edge of the bed.

“Ohhhh,” she sobbed as he drew his mouth away momentarily to gently kiss her sensitive nub and then let his tongue glide over it again. Watching her slowly come apart for him felt like something religious, sacred. Staggering.

His heart was pounding hard enough to hurt as he slid his hand off her stomach and entwined his fingers with hers; she squeezed it tightly.

He continued to tease her clit as he slowly sank a finger into her. She was slick, and molten, and gripped him like a vise as his tongue continued to play softly against the cluster of nerves under his tongue. After a minute he added a second finger and sank them deeper inside of her as he sought out a specific location behind her pelvis; maintaining his relentless assault again her center. She was arching and gripping his other hand until her knuckles grew white. When Draco found the spot inside of her that he wanted, he curled his fingers and pressed firmly inside her as he lashed his tongue firmly against her clit. He could feel her grow so taut she vibrated, and then made a guttural choking sound before proceeding to shatter under him.

She bucked and writhed and sobbed out her orgasm and then finally lay limp as he withdrew his hand from inside her and moved up her body.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She reached out and dragged his body against hers as she kissed him, hungrily. He growled against her lips and she shifted her legs to cradle him between her hips as he aligned himself and then sank into her with a sharp thrust; burying himself to the hilt.

She was liquid. Liquid heat. Just absolutely perfect. It was difficult not to just come the moment he sheathed inside her. He couldn’t help but marvel over how incredible she felt. How she stretched around him, clenching and squeezing as she gasped against his chest; her hot breath grazing his skin. Draco dropped his head against her shoulder and tried to steady himself before turning to capture her mouth. She wrapped her arms around him and tangled her legs with his as she shifted her hips to meet his thrusts.

He swallowed hard and tried to steel himself. He could last. He would find a way. He was determined. But she was just perfect and it had been a very long time since he’d had a witch in his bed.

He tried to go slowly but she dug her heels into his arse and urged him deeper and faster. He gave her what she wanted. He drove into her; long, steady thrusts as he felt her clench around him and her fingernails sink into his shoulders as she clung to him, gasping beneath him. The expression on her face was rapturous.

He studied it greedily.

He was doing this to her. His body against her. His cock inside her. He could give her everything she wanted. He would.

Everything about her was everything, everything that he wanted. He needed to show her. Show her. Make her feel it.

He couldn’t bear the thought she might wake up the next morning and think that one evening was all they were good for. All he was good for.

He would probably just die in that case.

He caught one of her legs and hooked her knee over his shoulder as he bore down, crushing their bodies together, and angling himself more deeply. There was no way one time with her could possibly be enough. There was so much he needed to give her.

The urge to just let go and pound into her was swallowing him but he forced it back and maintained his pace. Hermione’s head thrashed against the pillow as she clawed at him and sobbed with pleasure. He leaned down and kissed her; ravishing her mouth.

He rolled a nipple between his fingers and then slid his hand between their bodies as he kept driving into her. She was close, he was certain she was close. He could last until then. He was determined to drag her over the edge again before he followed her. He had to.

He clenched his jaw and eased his pace marginally as he played his fingers against the swollen flesh of her clit. She stiffened and sobbed, clawed at the sheets.

“Scream for me, Hermione,” he growled as he thrust into her. “I want to hear you scream.”

She crescendoed with a piercing wail that seemed torn from her. Breaking under him and shivering into pieces as she pulsed around him. He drove into her with long, sharp thrusts as he felt his balls tighten and his mind shatter in an explosion inside of her. The muscles in his pelvis jerked in a sharp involuntary repetition as he pumped his seed into her depths.

“Oh fuck, Hermione,” he gasped.

A long low groan rippled from him and he felt his face contort with the pleasure that was lashing its way through his body. He shook as his hips continued to thrust and he dropped his head down and then collapsed on top of her.

He panted and peppered kisses along her shoulder.

“You—you are fantastic. Just—better than—anything. Perfect. Absolutely perfect,” he muttered against the juncture of her shoulder. She was boneless under him. Her arms were still wrapped around his neck but she was boneless. He kissed across her cheeks and forehead for several minutes while he tried to catch his breath. Finally he slid reluctantly out of her and sank onto the mattress beside her.

“Worth the two year wait?” she asked in a blurry voice as she rolled over and curled up under his arm.

He gathered her closer and dropped his other arm possessively over her waist. He dropped several kisses on the top of her head.

“I told you, I’d wait a century,” he said.

She snorted. “I’m glad it didn’t take us that long. I don’t know if the sex would be as good if we were centenarians.”

“Hmm. Good thing we’re both so smart then,” he said dryly.

She burst out laughing and buried her face in his chest. Then they lay together. He held her close as he drifted off.

When Draco woke hours later he found Hermione, redressed and staring down at him pensively. He swallowed and tried to ignore his immediate unease.

“Hungry?” he asked in a teasing tone, trying not to seem as nervous as he felt.

She smiled faintly and shook her head, then her face grew serious again.

“So…” she began nervously. “Now that you’ve—seduced me—I’m not sure, what—what this is now.”

Draco reached out and pulled her toward him. She immediately allowed herself to be drawn in and he felt his pulse quicken hopefully as he dragged her into his arms.

“Trying to seduce you is such a habit at this point I expect I’ll just continue doing it for the foreseeable future. Although, I’m hoping that it will have a slightly higher rate of success now,” he told her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then another and another.

“I see,” she said in a prim voice, but there was a smile playing about her lips.

His heartbeat quickened.

“By the way…” he started slowly, “I’ve got a horrible ministry fundraiser that I’m supposed to appear at next weekend. It’s going to be mind-meltingly awful.” His voice became aggrieved as he stroked her cheek and studied her face. “Just standing around and listening to politicians gladhand and try to wheedle donations out of me. I’d skip it but unfortunately this very insistent little witch told me on no uncertain terms that I had to attend. She’s always there trying to solicit donations for Merfolk sanctuaries and Werewolf halfway houses and House-elf rights advocacy centers. She seems to be under some sort of impression that I have absolutely nothing better to do with my massive family fortune than give it to HER—!“ his voice broke off and he yelped as a knuckle drove itself between his ribs.

“Considering that you bought a townhouse in _Belgravia_ just to seduce someone, I think that is a fairly accurate assessment of your family fortune,” she said in a crisp voice.

“Fair enough,” he said, lowering his eyes demurely. “But the point still stands that I am required to appear at the event next week and I am currently dateless.” His voice dropped suggestively, hopefully, “I may be more amenable to making large donations to House-elf rights if I weren’t so lonely.”

“So, a charity date then?” Hermione said in a bland tone.

“I was thinking of something more long-term,” he growled, rolling and pulling her underneath himself.

“I’m not sure I understand,” she said in a saucy voice as he began kissing her neck. “I’m a Gryffindor, sometimes subtlety _eludes_ me.”

He drew away from her neck in order to stare down at her face and braced himself to bare his heart.

“Be my girlfriend, Hermione,” he said nervously. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I will do anything it takes to deserve you and make you happy. I will give you the world if you want it.”

She smiled up at him.

“Well, I don’t really need the world; running the DRMC is more than enough work. However, I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now too,” she said, reaching up to rest her hand on his cheek. “I would very much like to be your girlfriend, Draco Malfoy.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her for several minutes. When they finally broke apart she smirked up at him teasingly.

“I mean, it’s not like I really have many other options.” She sighed. “At this point you’ve set the bar so terribly high that now I highly doubt anyone else will ever be able to seduce me.”


End file.
